Monthly Archives: March 2009

If only I’d had that lasso…

Wonder Woman - Lynda Carter

The boyfriend went to Comicon on Sunday and well, he bought me a little something. Little as in the amount of skin it will cover…. Something as in a hand-crafted Wonder Woman costume.

Oh yeah!

Apparently being a super hero fan is hot these days, and while I’m not a tried and true super hero fan, I can play dress like one.

Halloween next year is covered.

And the occasional event throughout the year where a Wonder Woman costume may be in order. You never know…

I’m not going to lie. I’m totally digging the super hero thing.

Lunch Bunch Kevin wrote:

Is this a Halloween costume or for when the boyfriend is feeling like a villain?

Wouldn’t he like to know.

It’s just too bad I didn’t have Wonder Woman’s truth lasso when I was married. Maybe some things would have been revealed and I’d have found the boyfriend sooner…

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My peeps

I love my peeps. And you should too. (Not in a weird cyberstalker way, but in a wow, QQ has great peeps and I want to read about them way.)

Lately, I’ve become accutely aware of how much my friendship with DD Girl means to me. She is a friend I inherited from the boyfriend. Over the past nine months, she has become one of my besties. She is smart, funny, geeky and totally gets my humor.

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

Holy cow. I just blogged the Brownies song. That just happened.

And then there is Roomie. You may recall that we really didn’t know one anotherprior to the move. In fact, we met one time prior to moving in and that was to look at the apartment. My apartment manager is kind of abrasive, so I just acted like Roomie was one of my best friends and that we’d known eachother forever.

There was one awkward moment where I asked Roomie about a piece of furniture – it was a question that if we really were friends, I would have known. Our aparment manager paused from her sales mode and was like, “geesh, don’t you know that?”

Uh…yah, yah. I just forgot.

I thought I really liked living alone, but you know, it’s kind of nice to have someone to spend time with, especially when that person is as sweet as Roomie.

And while Molly’s certainly not a new friend, but it is worth mentioning that she recently asked me to be her guestbook attendant at her wedding.

Her proposal was quite amusing as she clearly felt bad giving me what she considered to be a “lame wedding job.”

But it’s actually not lame because they are doing something  really unique with the guestbook. I will be taking Polaroid snapshots of every guest which they will sign.

Molly said she couldn’t think of another friend more suited for the task. So I said I’d be happy to do the job if we could call it something other than Guestbook Attendant.

I am officially the Director of First Impressions.

Last but not least, the new season of My Boys starts tomorrow night and that means getting together with the girls over a coffee table piled high with  junk food.

And that, bloggy friends, is an update on my peeps.

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Need to create a new emotion

Sadness? Nope.

Anger? Not anymore.

Pity? Eh, not really.

Shock? I shouldn’t be.

Indifferent? I wish I could say that, but  the mere fact that I’m looking for an emotion clearly means I’m not.

I mean it’s not as if deep down, I didn’t know my ex-husband married her. I guess I just didn’t expect to find out when I was playing with Facebook on my phone and saw “they” (sharing the same account) recently friended a mutual friend. And in seeing their profile, I could see that she now has his last name. So unless they flipped a coin to decide whose name to go with, I’m guessing it’s because it is their name.

A  name I’m still fighting to rid myself of.

And there I was, the happiest I’ve ever been but I still felt “something” when I learned this information. And for a minute I felt guilty about this feeling I couldn’t put a finger on. What an insult to my new life and my amazing boyfriend.

But then I realized that it’s completely normal to feel something when you learn that your ex-husband is remarried. Because there was a time in your life when you thought you’d be with him forever. And even though you have more than accepted the fact that it is over and you have completely moved on with your life, there is a history there. A part of your life, your soul, your dreams that you left behind.

And regardless if you no longer want those things back, they are a part of your past. (In the same bittersweet way puberty was.)

And so today, I thought I would use this as an opportunity to promote Blogher’s Backtalk which is devoted this week to the topic of blogging through divorce. 

Because it’s ok to feel, think and blog this thing.

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Love is in the sphere

As in the blogosphere. (Is that word even cool anymore?)

Ok. It took me a while to figure this whole thing out, but here’s the best way to explain.

There’s this really cool single mommy blogger called Mommy Pie. 

Three months ago, Mommy Pie met boy. And somehow boy met or connected with Mommy Pie’s bloggy friend, Marcy.

So Marcy asks for all the bloggers to make their own posts about love/marriage/engagements and to link up to her post which ultimately links up to THIS blog.

Isn’t that sweet?

And she said yes, yada yada and now she’s overwhelmed and excited and giddy and all that good stuff.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here stuffing my PMS face with these $.99 sugar-coated fruit slices and reaching for a tissue because this love stuff making me weepy.

Oh crap.

So now I guess I’m supposed to write about love and stuff. Because all the cool kids are playing.

But I don’t know what to say.

I’m in love.

With this amazing man. And we’re just doing our thing and figuring it out.  Which is to say: caring for and supporting one another. And making one another laugh. (A lot. ) And talking and listening and being random and having fun and spending time. (A lot.)

Because I guess that’s just what you do. When you are in love.

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The Hunter

A while back, I posted about this tool.

Last weekend, I inadvertently had another tool run-in. Actually, my friend DD Girl did. But I was with her, so it counts.

Here’s how it went down:

DD meets Dude at friend’s birthday party. (Friend of friend kind of thing)

Dude seems nice, attractive and has a very respectable job. (I’m not saying that career is the only thing of importance, but  this guy’s occupation was something that most people would find admirable.)

Dude engages in a nice chat with DD about their respective jobs, this place we are in etc… He is clearly giving out vibes to DD that he’s interested.

Suddenly, I spot my family doctor and dash off to hug her.

DD and Dude end conversation because it seemed like a nice breaking point.

Later, DD runs into another friend who witnessed her chat with Dude.  DD mentions how nice he seemed and her friend gives her the ultimate female to female warning: STAY AWAY.

See, Dude has a bit of a reputation among his friends. He has given himself the nickname: The Hunter. And, he has been known to call women his prey.

There are a few terrifying things about this experience:

1. Dude seemed by all accounts normal. By association alone, he was earning brownie points.  He was a friend of one of my very respectable friends, and his aforementioned job was respectable. He even had a KU shirt on! (Ok, I’m kidding. We all know you can’t assume a guy is all right by his fan loyalty, but still.)

2. Dude did not give off the typical “creepy” vibe that us girls are used to looking for.

3. Dude could be any guy.

It’s sad really. Have you met Dude or any of his kind? Please share.

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When worlds collide

Like when you are out at a bar, holding a cosmo and you look up to see your family doctor.

Not just any family doctor, but the family doctor of your entire family and your ex-husband even. (Before he moved out of state.)

The doctor who tended to you after you were in a car accident the day after you left your ex-husband. And to whom you sobbed in her arms when you told her what was going on. The doctor who acted in such a professional, but compassionate manner to comfort you in your weakest moment.

And the doctor who handles ALL of your basic medical needs.  (You get my drift….)

So when you approach this doctor and give her a hug, cosmo in hand, and she tells you how fantastic you look…it might be a little awkward.

Because did she mean you look awesome because you are fully clothed and she is not looking at you from your lady parts up, or awesome because you are rocking the skinny jeans and five-inch heels?

It’s hard to say.

Really, just take the compliment.

And for Pete’s sake, don’t let her see you smoking because you know you still do sometimes, you bad person, you. Also, remember, you only drink two alcoholic beverages a week. And the cosmo was the first one.

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Naked Barbies and other observations

  • I’ve always wanted to start a post with “naked.”
  • At the St. Patty’s Day Parade, there was this adorable little girl behind me holding a naked Barbie and another toy. Later, when I turned around, I noticed she no longer had the Barbie, so I asked her where the Barbie was. Her dad answered- “She’s in my pocket.” Then he turned around and showed me  the back pocket of his jeans. Low and behold there was naked Barbie along with another Barbie I hadn’t yet met. She wasn’t technnically naked because she had a bikini of sorts painted on her. I wonder if visions of naked Barbies in his pockets entered his head when he heard the words, “It’s a girl.” Probably not.
  • I’ve been  having spontaneous desires to hug children lately. Does that sound creepy? It’s not meant to be. They are just so cute!
  • It’s official. Gertie likes Roomie more than me. Proven last night during couch time when Gertie opted to snuggle Roomie rather than with mommy. They grow up so fast…
  • Roomie’s vodka penne is far superior to mine. FAR.
  • In fact, if you walked into our apartment right now, you could still see the bowl that I practically licked because it was so good. Also because after eating so much pasta no one was feeling up to dishes so we made a pact not to. Although we didn’t establish a cut-off time for that which could be problematic…
  • This morning I was tied for first with two others in the office bracket pool. Eek! It probably won’t last long.

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Carolina on my mind

Next month I’m heading to North Carolina by way of Myrtle Beach for a conference. I built in some time to extend my trip so I could swing through my old stomping ground. It’s always so bittersweet to head back.

Rocky Mount is where I found myself (oddly enough), I began my career, learned to love and learned to write. There are so  many friends and co-workers who helped shape me. Most of them are no longer there. But there are always a few who, no matter how much out of my way it is, are well worth a visit.

my20friend20jenny

That's us two years ago - the last time I visited Rocky Mount

Jenny – oh “my friend, Jenny.” The sweetest soul and first “grown-up friend” I ever knew. She was like a big sister to me. I was just a 23 year-old kid and she was pushing 30 with a toddler and a husband. She seemed like she had it all together. Now I know she was probably just figuring things out for herself. But even as a busy working mom, she always gave me her time. Whether it was washing clothes at her place and watching Sex in the City, or crying into a heap on her kitchen floor after the intern broke my heart, Jenny was always there.

At work, she listened over smoke breaks and countless lunches at our favorite Mexican restaurant. We didn’t have our own work e-mail accounts back then, but we did have Internet access. I remember J-Crew had an online store and we would fill our virtual shopping carts with items no journalist could afford and compare items. “Oh look, I only ‘spent’ $650!”

At my wedding, I made her my assistant because I could think of no other person who could keep me as calm as Jenny could. And just when I was about to have an oh-my-god-my-family-and-the-entire-universe-is-watching-me melt down, Jenny took me around the side of the house and handed me a cigarette and book of matches from our lunch spot and told me everything was going to be ok and I was going to look beautiful and the day was going to be perfect.

She’s the kind of friend I can send an e-mail to every 10 months or so and know that it’s ok.

Last week, I sent a brief note saying, “Save your lunch hour on April 27 – I’m coming to town after a conference.” Her response: “YYYYYEESS. El Tap.” (Our favorite spot.)

And that’s it. I know she’ll be there and maybe she’ll be so sick of El Tap because she just had it three times in a row with co-workers, but she’ll go there for me and we’ll sit in our usual spot and even if I’m no longer smoking, I’ll probably have to have a cigarette or two while we catch up on things. (She recently had a baby girl!) And I don’t care if I have to drive 2 hours back to Fayetteville to catch a plane. I’ll just be so glad I spent some time with her.

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How to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day like it’s 1999.

Yesterday I played like it was 1999.

I don’t know when your “1999” was, but in 1999, I was 21.

Do the math.

I’m not 21 anymore, but I sure acted like it yesterday.

Roomie and I went to Westport to “watch the parade.” (AKA, drink before noon and crash before 5.)

I’m sure I could have done a better job of this a decade ago, but I held my own and Roomie says I give her hope that life after 30 isn’t that bad.

(Not to give up her age, but she’s about 4 years younger.)

A few photos for your enjoyment:

Roomie gets busy on the phone to find her sister – also in Westport.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Watching the parade is fun!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a potato car. I want one badly.

 

 

 

 

 

All in all, it was a blast. But at the end of the day, it was 2009. Not 1999. And well, let’s just say we had had enough fun to last us a while. We decided to leave the hard core celebrations to those whose 2009 is their 1999…. Have fun with that kids.

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congrats to the boyfriend

rockin1On getting a top sales award at his company.

Dear boyfriend,

You are so good at your job that you continue to inspire me to new heights.  You rock.

XOXO

QQ

P.S. He is Rick Astley

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